This cooking lark's a doddle!

I cooked dinner for six yesterday. Well, to be strictly accurate, I cooked the starter and the main course and the little 'Memsahib' produced a magnificent concoction of meringue with a chestnut and pistachio filling that melted in the mouth - but, hey, that's just pud, it's starters and mains that cut the mustard (but for God's sake don't tell her I said so)!

Now to put this in context I should explain that I was once sacked from the job of tea-maker to a bunch of building site workers.  On my first morning they realised very quickly that I was useless so I was dispatched to make the tea.  I found a wood-burning fire in an old oil drum with a billycan suspended above it full of water but with three bits of wood floating in it.  Mentally sneering at these 'Oirish' oiks and their dreadful lack of basic hygiene, I instantly threw the wood out, got the fire going and brewed the tea.  They all trooped in, tasted the tea and proceeded to spit it out along with some deeply offensive comments concerning my family history.  Well, I didn't know that if you boiled water over a wood fire it attracted the taste of wood smoke and that the way round it was to throw in some pieces of wood which attracted the smoke to themselves and left the water tasting clear.

Anyway, since then I have become a very decent breakfast, or to be precise, a 'brunch' chef.  Years of experience in feeding overnight guests suffering with various degrees of hangover has taught me that it is no good asking them what they would like for 'brunch'.  Running through a menu starting with black pudding, fried eggs and so on merely produces a muffled "Nothing for me, thanks" followed by a hasty exit.  However, an hour later, after they have 'abluted' and when they actually smell the grilled bacon, suddenly they rediscover their appetite.

But, when it comes to proper cooking, I must confess that I am very definitely one of life's consumers, not producers.  So, it was slightly irritating when one of my pals who had spent a day at some frightfully smart cookery school run by a 'Telly' chef, insisted on cooking a meal for all of us - splitter! Even worse was the fact that it was, I am forced to admit, bloody delicious! Then another friend did the same thing with equally scrummy results.  You can see, dear reader, that the honour of "Duff & Nonsense" was at stake - or should that be 'at steak'?  Anyway, I determined that I must accept the implicit challenge and last night was the test.

There is, I think, one simple rule to be followed by anyone in the position in which I found myself last night, that is, get your guests pissed as quickly as possibly before the meal! Thus, a jug of home-made, dryer-than-the-bloody-Sahara-desert, dry martini was placed in the deep freeze at lunch time and served to my rival chefs at 7.00 pm in so-called martini glasses that are so enormous they could double for pint pots in the pub except for their shape.  The ladies were plied with gin and tonics - "Only a very, very weak one for me", "Of course, my dear!", glug, glug, glug - so that within the hour no-one was feeling any pain!

Now to the meal. Well, the starter was easy-peasy.  The Little 'Memsahib' had some fish stock to which I added copious amount of wine, some of the milk in which smoked cod had been poached the night before, a dollop of cream plus, the remains of the cod flaked into tiny bits, some pepper, heat, stir and serve in some handy little china cups that 'Mr. Waitrose' had been kind enough to provide earlier in the year when they contained a chocolate pudding.  Cleaned out they make the perfect serving container for what the smarter sort of eating establishment calls a "bouche amusant".

But what about the mains, I hear you cry! No probs!  The truth must be told and so I confess that I am by nature a frier - not a boiler, or a roaster, or a poacher - I am a frier.  So, I made up some good, old-fashioned bubble and squeak with dark green cabbage to give it some colour.  I divided this into little round pat-a-cakes which I fried and then place in a warm oven whilst I did other things.  I cooked a tomato-based pasta sauce using a tin of peeled tomatoes with herbs.  I fine-chopped some onion and carrots, fried them in oil with some garlic sauce, then threw in the tomatoes, simmered them with a good slug of white wine - and a spoonful of sugar!  I am forced, in case she finds out, to tell you that this was the little 'Memsahib's' idea.  Keep it all simmering until the liquid element is reduced such that it will be wet but not runny.  Then, having previously prepared some cherry tomatoes, chopped mushroom and onions and softened them in a frying pan with some butter, then toss in a mixture of bite-sized slivers of sirloin and lamb steak.  Stir fry for a minute or two, then place your pat-a-cakes of bubble and squeak on the plates, a spoonful of the tomato sauce and dish out, what I can only call, modestly, Steak and Lamb a la Duff . But, finally, garnish the meat, mushrooms, tomatoes with some stir-fried bean sprouts.

One final advantage with this clever technique of mine is that because your guests are so pissed before they even reach the table, you can serve all this with the cheapest Chateaux de Plonk which they will all be incapable of discerning.

Cheers!

Comments

[Volume 10]

"I found a wood-burning fire in an old oil drum with a billycan suspended above it full of water but with three bits of wood floating in it. Mentally sneering at these 'Oirish' oiks and their dreadful lack of basic hygiene, I instantly threw the wood out ... I didn't know that if you boiled water over a wood fire it attracted the taste of wood smoke and that the way round it was to throw in some pieces of wood which attracted the smoke to themselves and left the water tasting clear."

Here we have anecdotal evidence that bigotry and racism are often the product of simple ignorance and a false sense of superiority.

[David Duff]

Indeed, so, 'V10', but some of what you call "bigotry and racism" is *not* based on "simple ignorance and a false sense of superiority", but instead, is based on knowledge, bitter experience and a well-deserved sense of superiority. To give you but one example, just ask any elderly Jews you come across with fading numbers tattooed on their arms what they think of the Aryan race!

[Volume 10]

I think we can safely rule out any genocidal activity in the case at hand, so I'll consider that the relevant part of your comment ends after "Indeed".

[David Duff]

In which case, 'V10', I can safely assume that absolutely *none* of your original comment has any relevance given the fact that my post contained absolutely no "bigotry and racism" at all.

Seeing "bigotry and racism" where-ever you go is an affliction you share with others and for which there is no known cure, it being impossible, so far, to inject people with common sense!

[Volume 10]

You have conflated Irishness with oikdom and poor hygiene.

Similarly, you have conflated Duffishness with stupidity and hopelessly erroneous snap judgments based on nationality.

[David Duff]

I forgot to add to my medical prognostication the impossibility of injecting some people with a sense of humour. Regrettably, the condition is not terminal but it can lead to terminal boredom in others. The best response is to keep the patient isolated in quarantine where he can talk to himself, a habit of verbal onanism he will quickly come to enjoy!

[Volume 10]

The "laughing with/laughing at" distinction is pertinent here.

[David Duff]

No, in your case it's just "laughing"!

[Volume 10]

Duff, one of your most tragic afflictions is a total inability to identify a joke unless it has a big fat exclamation mark on the end. Oscar Wilde you ain't, Chuckles.

[David Duff]

Just as well I'm not, according to *your* estimation of me - Wilde was an 'Oirish' bugger, which 'thank the Lord I'm not, Sir'!

[Volume 10]

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